What Happens in Baghdad
by Jennytheshipper
Summary: Mulit-chapter continuation of Interrogation.  Previous story not necessary, but may improve reading experience.  Based on implied events of 8:1 and the romantic films of David Lean.


What Happens in Baghdad

**Note: This multi-part fic is the continuation of a plot started in Interrogation.net/story/story_edit_?storyid=7237874/1/. You can follow the plot without reading the first fic, but you may enjoy it more if you find out where all this is coming from. The bulk of this story is inspired by episode 8:1 and the romantic films of David Lean. The story begins, as all good Harry and Ruth fanfiction should, with Harry and Ruth in bed in a hotel. This chapter rated M for good old-fashioned smut.**

The wake-up call came and went. They were still in bed, unwilling to extract themselves from the tangle of sheets. Clothing littered the floor, evidence of their earlier haste. That was a rushed, frantic business. Wonderful, certainly, but Harry was determined to take his time, now. He was on top of Ruth, gazing down at her.

"What is it?" she asked at length. A mischievous smile played across his face and he began to kiss her neck, working his way down her breasts, toying with them. She grabbed his head with both hands and held on tight as he moved his attention down her navel and to points south of the border. Ruth spread her legs to give him access and gasped a little as the course stubble on his cheeks brushed against her thighs. Ruth moaned at the intermingling of pain and pleasure as his tongue explored her and his beard burned her tender parts.

Ruth held out as long as she could. She writhed out of position occasionally, to make Harry's tongue miss its mark, so she could enjoy the experience just that little bit longer. She tried dirty talk, begging him fuck her with his cock. She wondered if he could even hear it, as he was, under the duvet. He kept going with a singular concentration. She tugged at his ears and hair. It was no use. He was a man on a mission. He brought her to a back-bending orgasm that made her cry out and smack the pillows with her fists. At one point she might have spoken in tongues.

Harry came up for air. Ruth started to laugh. She felt giddy. Harry looked a trifle confused, but she sat up and grabbed him in a hug, pulling him to her chest.

She managed one word: "awesome."

There was a knock at the door. Ruth felt an inexplicable flush of panic.

"That will be breakfast. I ordered it last night. I hope you like a full English."

Harry climbed out of bed, gingerly stepping over clothes, and grabbed a robe out of the closet.

Ruth scrambled to make herself as presentable as possible. With relief she heard Harry tell the waiter that he would "take it from here."

Breakfast in bed was always so elegant in the movies. Ladies and gentlemen sat neatly clothed in silk pajamas nibbling toast and soft boiled eggs. The reality was a lot of crumbs in places they didn't belong and terrifying moments of pouring hot tea in close proximity to exposed flesh. They soldiered on inspired by hunger.

"Harry," Ruth said, between bites, "did you say last night that we were meeting with the Prime Minister, this morning?"

"Yes, I did."

"Surely, you meant you have a meeting with him. Not me as well?"

"No, Ruth, I need you there as well."

"And what time, exactly, is this meeting?"

"About an hour from now," he said nonchalantly. Ruth put down her tea and sprang out of bed. She began picking through the clothes on the floor, frantically.

"Harry, really, I don't have a thing to wear. Look at this jacket," she cried pointing to a rumpled mess of a blazer.

"It's alright, I'll have the hotel valet give it a once over. I'm sure mine could use some sprucing up as well," he said but she was already round the corner in the bathroom, adjusting the water for a shower.

He finished his cup of tea calmly and phoned the valet. Ruth was in the shower, scrubbing down as quickly and efficiently as possible. She heard the hum of Harry's razor and she peaked around the end of the shower curtain to watch him shave.

He sensed her eyes on him.

"I really needed this shave."

"You certainly did," she shot back, blushing underneath her suds.

A half an hour later they were clean and dressed and ready to depart for their meeting. Ruth stopped and took a last look back at the room. She didn't want to leave their love nest. Their first night together was so brief. To call it a night, was an exaggeration. She wondered if life with Harry was always going to be like this, a few memorable hours crammed into the narrow gaps of a busy schedule. It wasn't even over and she wanted it all back again.

"Nervous?" Harry asked, sensing her hesitation.

"A little. But mostly sad."

"Sad?"

"And happy, too. I don't know. "

"I think I know what you mean."

He grabbed her hand and brought it his lips.

"Come on. Mustn't keep the Prime Minister waiting."


End file.
